Penthesilea, the Amazonian queen herself, was sitting atop me—completely bare, her bronzed skin glistening faintly under the moonlight that seeped through the cracks in the shutters. Her untamed hair cascaded around her shoulders, and her piercing eyes glowed with predatory intent, locked onto mine.
I froze, my mind racing to process the situation. Her lips curved into a sultry, knowing smile as she leaned forward, her warmth radiating against me. The air between us seemed to crackle with her sheer presence.
“Now,” she purred, her voice low and demanding, “give me your strong seed.”
“Strong seed?” I echoed, my tone tinged with disbelief, though the constant surprises of this world had dulled my ability to be truly astonished. The queen of the Amazons herself, Penthesilea, was unabashedly asking me to father her child. If this had happened to me when I first arrived in this strange reality, I might have been stunned. But now? It was just another bizarre chapter in my life.
Why were so many women around me suddenly obsessed with having a baby?
Amelia had whispered her desires in hushed tones during our secret night together, hidden from the watchful eyes of classmates and students. Aisha, too, had begged for the same after our most recent, intimate encounter. Even Khillea—the mysterious woman I’d met in Achilles’ tent—had subtly hinted at her intentions. And now, Penthesilea.
The pattern was undeniable, and yet, no less perplexing.
“Yes,” Penthesilea said with a mischievous grin, leaning against me. The warmth of her bare body seeped through my clothes as her soft, full breasts pressed lightly against my chest. Her nipples grazed my tunic, making her intent crystal clear. She wasn’t shy, nor hesitant, and carried herself with the confident allure of a warrior accustomed to taking what she wanted.
Her beauty was captivating, yet not dainty. It was raw and fierce, like a weapon forged in the heat of battle. Her curves—especially her ample chest—stood in stark contrast to her agile, lightning-fast movements on the battlefield. Amazingly, her body didn’t seem hindered by them at all.
“We Amazons are all women,” she explained, her flushed cheeks betraying just a hint of embarrassment. “To continue our legacy, to pass on our bloodline, we must reproduce. For centuries, we’ve sought out the strongest men—worthy men. Some we take by force; others come willingly. Either way, no man would say no to a night with an Amazon, would they?” Her words carried a teasing lilt, but her golden eyes held an intense seriousness beneath the playfulness.
Her explanation intrigued me. It was more than just biology; it was tradition and survival intertwined. “What happens if a boy is born?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and even, despite her closeness.
Penthesilea tilted her head, seemingly amused by my question. “Hmm? A fair question. If it’s a boy, he will marry a strong Amazon and give us children until a girl is born. However…” Her eyes narrowed playfully, and a faint smirk tugged at her lips. “Not all men are capable of keeping up with us. Few can match our zeal, on the battlefield or in bed~.”
The implications were clear, and I couldn’t help but admire the pride she took in her people’s resilience. Amazons weren’t just warriors; they were a force of nature. The thought of competing with their stamina was… daunting, to say the least.
I leaned back slightly, meeting her gaze. “Why wait so long, then? Surely you’ve encountered many strong men before me. Hector, for instance?”
Penthesilea’s expression softened, a flicker of respect crossing her face at the mention of Troy’s champion. “Hector… Yes, I approached him once. But he’s too devoted to Andromache. I respect that, and I moved on.” She paused, her grin returning. “But then, I met you. You defeated Ajax, after all.” Her voice carried a note of admiration that felt strangely intimate. “You’ve proven yourself worthy in battle, and now… I want your seed.”
“What if I refuse?” I asked, my voice steady, but something in my chest betrayed the rising tension.
Penthesilea tilted her head back and laughed—a sound as sharp and untamed as the wilderness she ruled. Her golden skin glistened faintly in the dim light, every curve of her form radiating power and raw temptation. “Then I’ll take it myself,” she said, a feral smirk curling her lips.
Before I could react, her hand darted forward, slipping under the waistband of my pants. Her cool fingers found my soft shaft, curling around it with the precision of a hunter. My body flinched at the sudden contact, a sharp intake of breath betraying my surprise.
Her eyes glittered as she began to explore me, her touch shifting from tentative strokes to confident glides. “Oh…” Penthesilea mused, her thumb brushing along the sensitive underside of my length. “You’re carrying something impressive here.” Her voice dipped lower, a tantalizing mix of curiosity and challenge. “I wonder… how much bigger will it get when you’re ready to fight?”
Her hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, sliding along my shaft, coaxing life into me. My resolve wavered, especially as her form moved closer, her proud, firm breasts bouncing slightly with her every motion. The soft rise and fall of her chest demanded my attention, the thin cloth over them doing little to disguise their fullness.
Arousal stirred within me despite myself, and I reached out instinctively, letting my hands find her. Her skin was impossibly smooth under my fingertips, her taut stomach leading up to the supple curve of her breasts. “You’re incredible,” I murmured, my thumbs grazing the peaks through the thin fabric. “You’ve got the kind of body men would fight wars for.”
Penthesilea stilled for a moment, a faint twitch betraying her pleasure even as she kept her expression aloof. “Mmm…” she hummed, her breath catching as my fingers found her nipples, rolling and teasing them. She tried to maintain her composure, but the slight parting of her lips, the way her chest rose sharply under my palms, told another story.
“You’re not so tough now, are you?” I teased, leaning closer. My hands grew bolder, kneading her breasts with a firm but measured grip. She gasped softly, her earlier dominance faltering as her head tipped back slightly. “Such nice breasts,” I said, my voice a low murmur against her ear. “Perfect for a warrior queen.”
“Y-you’re just… ah… trying to distract me!” Penthesilea managed to say, though her voice quivered. Her hand on me slowed, her grip faltering as I continued my assault on her senses.
“Maybe I am,” I said, smiling against her neck before biting lightly. Her body arched against mine, her gasp turning into a breathy moan. “But it seems to be working.”
Her eyes snapped open, a fire igniting behind them as she growled, “You’ll regret that.” With renewed fervor, her hand on my cock tightened, stroking harder and faster, her movements almost punishing. The friction sent sparks of pleasure racing through me, and I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my lips.
My resolve gave way entirely, and in one swift move, I grabbed her by the waist and flipped her down onto the bed beneath me. She let out a startled cry, her hair splaying out like a dark halo against the sheets. “What are you—!” she began, but I cut her off, pinning her hands above her head with one hand and using the other to grip her thigh, spreading her legs apart.
“I’m taking charge,” I said, lowering my voice to a growl. My gaze raked over her, from the defiance blazing in her eyes to the way her chest heaved with each ragged breath. “You’ll beg me for more before this is over.”
“You arrogant bastard!” Penthesilea snarled, her muscles tensing as if preparing to throw me off. But I was faster, pressing my body against hers, pinning her completely. My cock, now fully hard, pressed against her, and despite her protests, a flush spread across her cheeks.
“Admit it,” I whispered against her ear, letting the head of my shaft brush teasingly against her. “You want this just as much as I do.”
Her hips bucked involuntarily, and for a split second, her fierce mask slipped, replaced by something raw and unguarded. Then it was back, and she bared her teeth. “Never.”
“Then I’ll make you,” I said, pushing her legs wider. Her resistance only made the tension between us thicker, the air crackling with challenge and unspoken desire.
Penthesilea’s defiance burned in her eyes, a wild glint of pride refusing to dim even as she strained against me. She wasn’t trying to stop me because she’d had second thoughts; no, her Amazonian pride wouldn’t allow submission. To her, control was a birthright, a queen’s privilege. Her body, taut with muscle and grace, fought not just me, but the idea of yielding to anyone.
Her resistance was a tempest, feral and consuming. She twisted, her breath heaving, every sinew of her powerful frame straining as she sought to reverse our positions. But I wasn’t about to yield either. Her efforts only fueled my resolve. I surged forward, channeling strength into every motion, pinning her beneath me.
“B…Bastard!” she spat, fury spilling over her trembling lips, her voice edged with disbelief. Her eyes widened, incandescent with indignation that I had overpowered her.
I couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction, her rage a perfect mirror to her frustration. “Now, let’s make this interesting.”